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Advent’s Form, by Charlotte Ostermann
(listen to this poem here)
Advent lies prone beneath a flurry
not of snow, but of life’s tiny fragments rained.
Tinseled trifles fighting emptiness,
filling darkness – quick extinguished flames.
Advent’s Form is flat, dimensionless.
But wait! The Form inhales to music
not of stars, but of a voice calling, Wake!
Rise now, shake off glitter, shed your tomb.
Seek the world’s deep pain, with roots partake.
Advent’s Form now figured with a womb.
Caressed, the new-fleshed soul, by warm light
not of dawn, but of a dawning human soul.
Ponder all creation in one word.
Turn full-knowing inward, Christ extol!
Advent’s Form the vessel of her Lord.
Rejoice! A low place fills with riches
not of gold, but of promised fulfillment near.
Person glorified, renewed creation.
Outward pours such sounds as lovers hear.
Advent’s Form a throne for heaven’s son.
She turns in splendor, jewels pour from her
not her own, but from her Love’s impassioned plea.
Long, prolong, oh soul, in patience mild.
Yearn, hold fast, retain capacity.
Advent’s Form a woman waits with Child.